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Laura couldn't help but notice a distinct pattern emerging.
Whenever she thought about telling him that she was psychic in the past, the intensity of the shadow had either diminished or gone away completely. But whenever she decided not to tell him, and now when he declared he didn't believe her, the shadow had become stronger. So dark it was almost overpowering.
The parallel was impossible to ignore. She had seen the shadow of death hanging over her father for a long time before she actually learned that he was going to die of cancer. And that, in itself, was a long time before he had actually succumbed to the disease. But it wasn't like her visions. She had no way of measuring how long it would take for the shadow to progress to a real threat on Nate’s life. Even if she had a preconceived notion of it, now, with things as they were, she wasn't sure that any of the rules were the same anymore.
But what she saw now was very clear. If Nate went on thinking that she did not have psychic powers, that it was all a made-up lie, he was going to die. Sooner rather than later. Certainly not at the age of one hundred with all of his grandchildren around the bed. But if she told him, and made him believe, and made him see that it was real, then he wasn't going to die at all. At least, not for a while.
She had a duty to make him see. She had a duty to save his life.
Not just because she cared about him, which she did. But because this was her job. Her whole reason for being. Laura was an FBI agent because she wanted to stop people from being murdered. She wanted to save their lives. If she couldn't even save the life of her partner, when all it required was for her to be honest with him, then what good was she?
She was going to have to find a way to convince him, to make him see.
But right now... he was clearly having a hard time taking it in. What he’d said had been hurtful – accusing her of making it all up for attention like that. He knew, deep down, that Laura hated the kind of attention she got for solving cases. That was the only reason she was able to keep it together herself and forgive him for that kind of accusation, something that went so hard against everything he knew about her. He was struggling with the concept of her being psychic in itself, and while there would be opportunities to show him proof, they wouldn’t just pop up randomly if Laura trailed around behind Nate like a lost puppy dog. She still needed to do her job.
Just as much as she needed to save Nate’s life, she also needed to stop the killer from taking another. He’d had his next kill site set up already at the grocery store, which meant it was highly likely he was already stalking his victim. She couldn't just drop everything to try and change Nate’s mind, not right now. There would be time for that in due course.
Right now, she needed to work the case. And working the case meant she needed to find the next lead. Looking at medical records and speaking to family members was only going to get her so far.
Laura turned the key in the ignition, starting the engine again with a new determination.
If she wanted answers, she was going to have to go right to the source. The hospital.
She zoomed out on her GPS and found it, the one place where all of the medical records so far had come from. The same hospital. How she hadn't seen that connection and jumped on it before, she had no idea. She’d been distracted, too much in her own head. But she saw it now, and she was going to get to the bottom of this before the day was done. Whatever it took.
***
“So, this is for the clock killer case?” the administrator asked, looking at Laura with an intensely measured look over her shoulder. Laura didn’t flinch.
“That’s right,” she said, following the tall, sharply dressed woman down the hall towards the records office. “We’re chasing down a lead that might be crucial in solving it.”
The administrator nodded, her heels clicking on the linoleum floors at a rapid pace. Even in her sensible flats, Laura found herself hurrying to keep up. “I wouldn’t normally do this,” she said. “But I understand that time is of the essence here, and I want it to be on the record that we’re doing everything we can to help you stop this public menace.”
Public menace. It was a funny way of describing a rampant murderer. “Of course,” Laura said, instead of responding to that. “Your help is much appreciated.”
They’d reached a door marked with a plaque reading RECORDS in old-fashioned font, and the administrator pushed her way in before holding it open for Laura. She followed into a small room which was mostly occupied by a desk and a single computer. Behind it, a partition hid a number of shelves stacked with cardboard archive boxes. Laura couldn’t see how far back they stretched. She didn’t think she wanted to. The computer was much more promising.
“I’ll have to access the system for you, of course,” the administrator said primly, sitting herself down and smoothing out her pencil skirt. “But you can tell me what you want me to look up, and I’ll get it for you.”
“Alright,” Laura said, because she was in too much of a rush to argue – and definitely in too much of a rush to have to go out and get a warrant signed by a judge if this woman decided not to help after all. “I need to see the details of three patients who’ve had procedures done here. The first is Veronica Rowse.”
“And what are we looking for?” the administrator asked, her hands already moving over the keyboard.
Damned if I know, Laura thought. She was hoping this would be one of those things that she would know when she saw it. “She was involved in a car accident about a year ago. I need everything related to that event.”
“Everything?” the administrator said, raising an eyebrow. She turned back to her screen, then glanced at Laura. “I’ve got a lot here. EMT reports, scans and tests, results, signed orders for medication…”
“All of it,” Laura confirmed. “If you can run me off a copy of everything in that file pertaining to the time of the accident, I’ll start looking through it while you find the data on the other two.”
“Alright,” the administrator said, with a heavy tone in her voice that implied Laura was pushing her luck. But Laura didn’t care. This was all she needed, and it had to show her something.
It had to.
She scanned page after page of the documents, trying to record as much of the information in her head as she could. Doctor names. The date and time of Veronica’s admission. The medication she had been administered. All of the tests, and the results they showed. The amount of coverage she’d had with her insurance, and who her provider was. The amount she’d owed. The name of the physiotherapist who helped her to walk again and the number of weeks she’d spent in physical therapy, and the name of the center where she did it. All of it could be relevant.
When Laura finally moved on to look at Stephanie Marchall’s file, the administrator was watching her with clear impatience, looking at her watch repeatedly.
“You can go if you’re busy,” Laura said, not looking up. She could see enough in her peripheral vision, and the files needed her attention more. “This could take a while.”
